The Graft (46 page)

There was no answering smile.

‘So you really did Proctor then?’

‘You
know
I did. But it was with just cause, as I have just explained to you. Now can we get into bed and go to fucking sleep because I am knackered?’

He looked so cold and unmoved standing there, it occurred to her then that he really was a dangerous man. That was his rep but until tonight he had also been her husband, her other half. He looked frightening now. She wondered if it was because for the first time in years they were in the house alone. Their fights had been subdued or even stopped by his mother’s intervention. Now she was gone it was just them and the thing Tammy had always wanted was not making her as happy as she had believed it would. In fact it made her nervous because it had finally sunk in that Nick didn’t love her at all. He didn’t love anyone.

He didn’t know how to.

She climbed into bed with him but didn’t try and cuddle him this time even though she knew he would let her. He liked a cuddle did Nick. Years before when they had had a sex life he had cuddled for England, and it had taken a while before she realised it was because he lost his erection quickly and would talk to her and make her laugh to take her mind off it.

Now, though, for the first time ever, she knew that if he came near her she would push him away.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tyrell sat in his kitchen after a sleepless night. The boys had slept like logs, were still asleep. Every now and then he popped his head around the door to check on them. Kerr snuffled in his sleep and it reminded Tyrell of Sonny. He had snored quietly as well.

It was thoughts of Sonny that were keeping him awake. He glanced at his watch. Nearly six o’clock. He was going to slip out soon and do a bit more investigating on his own. The traffic was getting louder and more frequent now. The day was beginning for so many people, all going about their lives hopefully without the knowledge about their closest relations that he had. Every time he had tried to close his eyes he was tortured by images of his son with that man. What kind of monster bought himself a young boy? What kind of man dragged a young boy down into the gutter?

And maybe more to the point: what kind of young boy
wanted
it to happen?

Tyrell poured himself more coffee and sipped it lazily as he dragged on his cigarette. Normally he liked this time of the morning, liked the feeling of a new day starting. Today, though, he wished he could lie down and never get up again.

He tried to picture his other sons sleeping, tried to visualise their little heads on their pillows and their chests moving confidently in and out as they dreamed only of good things. Why was it some people seemed to be blessed while others seemed to be put on this earth only to be hurt or to hurt others?

His mother believed in God, he was a certainty to her, a woman who had never left her own home for years. Even her beloved grandson’s burial couldn’t move her from that house. She was a good person, meant well, needed her family around her. He never wanted her to know what he had found out about her Sonny Boy, he was sure it would be the end of her. She would understand it less than he did, and he was trying hard.

If it had been with a boy his own age, Tyrell could have taken that, it would not have bothered him. But knowing this big love affair came about through rent-boying just didn’t wash with him. There was more to it all than Kerr and poor Willy Lomax knew, he could feel it.

’Are you OK?’

It was Willy, standing in the doorway.

Tyrell nodded, wishing the boy out of his life even as he felt responsible for him.

‘Do you want some coffee?’

The boy shook his head. Instead he picked up Tyrell’s cigarettes and lit one. ‘I prefer tea in the mornings.’ He laughed as he said it. ‘Hark at me! Anyone would think I had a choice in the matter.’

‘Well, you have this morning anyway.’

Tyrell put the kettle on and dug around in the cupboard for tea bags, all the time wondering when the boy would go away again and leave him alone.

Willy sensed his feelings and said gently, ‘We’ll be gone by this afternoon.’

Tyrell closed his eyes tightly before turning to the boy and saying lightly, ‘You’re OK.’

Willy raised his eyebrows sceptically.

‘Honestly, Willy. Anyway, I want you to come to the rat house with me. Give me the lowdown on who goes in there.’

Willy shrugged and puffed on his Marlboro Light.

‘Whatever.’

Tyrell could see how hard it was for the boy to act as if he wasn’t bothered about what happened to him now, but he could also see the relief in his eyes at the thought of another night or two in the warmth.

‘Do you want some breakfast?’

Willy nodded happily.

‘Then make yourself something. I have to slip out for a while.’

Tyrell picked up his coffee and as he left the kitchen, said quietly, ’And clean up after you, right?’

‘ ’Course I will. Can I make something for Kerr?’

Tyrell raised his eyes to the ceiling. As if he would say no. Why did the boy check everything out like he did? He answered tersely.

‘Of course you can, don’t be daft. I’m hardly going to say no, am I?’

Willy shrugged once more, his ‘I am hard’ trademark shrug, and said stoutly, ‘You’d be surprised.’

Tyrell left the room then before he lost his temper.

But he knew in his heart what was wrong with him. He didn’t like the fact this boy had lumped him in with all the other people who had used him in his life.

 
Nick was feeling good. He didn’t know why or how considering all he had drunk and snorted over the last few days, but he did. He was high, naturally high, and jumped from the bed eagerly before wandering downstairs to the kitchen in search of breakfast. Tammy was already up and that surprised him. In the kitchen she was reading the
Daily Mail
and sipping black coffee. He opened the fridge and saw that there was hardly anything in it except beer and fresh orange juice.

’Ain’t there any food?’

He was annoyed. He would have cooked for himself, would not have expected Tammy to do it, but now there was nothing even to cook.

She shook her head.

‘Your mum normally shops on a Friday, and in case you ain’t noticed she ain’t here any more.’

He swallowed back the angry retort that was dying to escape from his mouth and instead poured himself a livener.

‘Bit early, ain’t it?’

The vodka was swallowed down quickly and expertly and for some reason this bothered Tammy. She was the one who did all the mad things in their marriage, not Nick. He was the sensible half of the partnership usually and if he stopped being sensible anything could happen. She glanced round the kitchen. Like the rest of the house it looked grubby. Well, she wasn’t cleaning it, she wouldn’t know where to start. It was a far cry from the early days of their marriage when she had scrubbed and cooked to her heart’s content. But she had been happy then, so happy.

Tammy observed her husband and realised she was still frightened of him. He was over the top now and it had taken her a while to see that. Recently he had turned into a male version of her. Last night had shown her just how far apart they actually were. This was a Nick she didn’t even like.

It had been hard enough for her the day before. Suddenly she had not wanted to be in the wine bar, didn’t want to listen to all the empty talk around her, even coke couldn’t lift her mood. She had drunk so much it had stopped having any effect, and listening to those stupid bitches telling her how great she was had paled after the first two hours. Funnily enough the only bright spot had been Janine Aldridge actually having the nerve to tell her she was going over the top too often and should sort herself out before it was too late.

Janine had had to sort herself out big-time, and she had. There was a time when she had been in Tammy’s shoes, and she had worn them out. Her husband had been a player and Janine the player’s wife. Simon Aldridge had been murdered getting into his car one fine Sunday afternoon. He had been taking his boys to football practice but two shots to the back of his head had put paid to that.

Once the shock had worn off Janine had changed beyond recognition. From the Queen she had become the Queen Mother and actually found she enjoyed it. Once the pressure was off, she said, the need constantly to obliterate her own way of life was gone and she had retired gracefully to bring up her kids and live off her husband’s ill-gotten gains. She’d told Tammy last night that you knew when you had torn the arse out of something when it stopped feeling good, be it love, drugs or marriage, and Tammy knew exactly what she meant now.

She had torn the arse out of everything around her and nothing made her feel good any more. She didn’t even want her husband at this moment, though she knew from experience that could change.

She watched the fleeting expressions on Nick’s face and decided she didn’t want access to his private thoughts today. She had a feeling they would not be anything she wanted to hear. Normally she wished that the Japanese would build a computer that read people’s minds. Now, even if it was on special in Argos she wouldn’t want it. Janine had opened Tammy’s eyes to what was going on around her and she didn’t like what she saw, but she knew that only she could change it. Janine had shown her the future and Tammy was considering her position. She wouldn’t do anything just yet. She would do what she always did, let circumstances take over and then go with the flow. But she had an odd feeling that circumstances were changing rapidly in Nick’s life, and what affected him affected her.

All she could do was wait and see how things worked out for them both.

Nick left the house an hour later and Tammy still had not left the kitchen. She was watching
The Golden Girls
again and wondering what to do with the rest of her day. She might take Janine Aldridge up on her offer of lunch. It was funny but Tammy actually liked her. Which was more than she could say about most of her other mates.

 
Sally looked at the clock and gritted her teeth. The boys were in their bedrooms and the usual sounds of Saturday morning were coming down the stairs: music, laughter, and the occasional shout of excitement. She could already feel a headache coming on. Until Tyrell had left she had never realised just how much he had done with them. By that she meant, of course, how much he had taken them out and left her to do her incessant cleaning.

She glanced at the clock once more. It was after eleven and Tyrell was over an hour late picking them up. No call, no nothing, and she couldn’t raise him on his mobile. It was ringing but not being answered.

She wondered if it was because he was with another woman. She couldn’t help wondering if it was Jude. She hated Jude with a vengeance as she had hated Sonny though she could only admit that to herself now.

She tried Tyrell’s mobile once more and her call was rejected on the second ring. Now her anger was spilling over. When he finally turned up he would regret that for the rest of his days. Black-Eyed Peas were screeching out ‘Shut Up’ over and over again and the boys were singing along to it at the top of their voices, their laughter at the lyrics overriding any fear of her. Sally had already planned a nice calm afternoon, cleaning and ironing and watching the
Coronation Street
omnibus on ITV 2. It was her Saturday afternoon treat because none of her friends was even aware she watched the programme.

The music was still pounding out and the man she loved was still not answering his phone when Sally forgot her usual dignity and reserve as she ran out into the hallway and screamed: ‘Turn that fucking music down!’

Then, seeing the blue vase with the yellow roses on it that Sonny had bought them one Christmas sitting on the hall table, she picked it up and launched it with all her might at the kitchen door. The sound of it smashing was almost cathartic.

Two handsome dark heads looked round the top of the stairs and she could see the shock in her boys’ faces as they stared as if they had never seen their own mother before.

Louis Clarke was with his brother Terry on their way to meet with Tyrell and look this so-called rat house over. They were meeting for a drink first at Wapping Wall in the Prospect of Whitby. Tyrell was going to fill them in on what was going on and they were to try and talk him into meeting with Nick Leary. Billy thought it might make life easier for them all. He wanted a day and time set and he wanted it over with, it was all getting on his nerves.

As they walked into the pub Terry glanced around him through force of habit. He had had so many tear ups the chances were he’d meet someone who knew him and had to watch his back in any new place. He was not disappointed. A tall man with reddish hair and an easy smile said to him: ’All right, Tel? How’s tricks?’

To which an irate Terry answered sharply, ‘I am a bank robber, mate, not a member of the Magic fucking Circle!’ He pushed the man out of his way and walked purposefully to the bar. Terry hated over-familiarity and this geezer had crossed the line.

Terry didn’t even know him really, why would he want to talk to him?

The front of some people never ceased to amaze him.

Louis winked at the bloke and said quietly, ‘Ignore him, he’s got the raving hump today.’